Severus
by Munku-JGSPTV
Summary: HalfBlood Prince spoilers. Somewhat drabble about Harry being ready to face Voldemort, but finds Snape standing in his way. Set in seventh year.


I've written this under an hour after finishing reading the book. I feel quite dead. In fact, perhaps Dementors have been lurking a bit too closely under my window. Pointless drabble. I'm in need of hope.

WARNING: Spoilers.

* * *

Harry flung the other Death Eater's curse away, not even needing to raise a shield. 

No one remained in his way. No one between him and Voldemort.

Wormtail was dead, Bellatrix had been defeated, Draco was secure at Hogwarts... The prophecy was really going to be fulfilled. Harry let a grim expression cross his face as he ran further down the tunnel, facing the one thing that could stand between Voldemort and his killer.

Snape.

Seeing the man, standing with a sallow face contorted between a smirk and a sneer, his hooked nose and greasy hair, his usual black robes...

Harry felt a hate swell in him like nothing he had felt before. When he had attempted to cast an Unforgivable on Bellatrix two years ago, it had failed because of righteous anger. Now, nothing was in the way of him tearing this man apart.

"Potter," Snape spat. He even raised an eyebrow at Harry, though he had his wand ready.

Snape stood still, letting Harry step slowly up to him, hate curling across his mouth, firing in his emerald eyes. This was the man who had killed his parents, had killed Sirius, had killed Dumbledore.

They both had their scars - Harry had his lightning bolt, now a streak of angry red pain across his forehead in wake of Voldemort's near presence, and Snape had the Dark Mark burned into his arm. Snape had had a choice.

"So, Potter, going to kill me and then the Dark Lord? Do not think you can toss me aside that easily." Snape was using his most quiet, dangerous tones.

Harry resisted the urge to snarl back, and glanced down at his wand, clutched tightly in his blackened hand.

It became stunningly simple. His thoughts, in his dreams of facing Snape again, had always been of the Killing Curse or even 'sectumsempra'. But, as he raised his wand, feeling the power of the phoenix vibrating in his hand, he realised he just wanted to cause Snape as much pain as possible.

"Crucio."

Snape had either attempted a counter-curse or a shield; neither worked.

He was thrown back onto the stone ground, writhing in pain, trying to fight screams as they tore out of his throat.

Harry felt a vague, dull satisfaction. Snape deserved this.

And when Harry could see it start to die off, he cast the Unforgivable again. And again. Again.

He could almost make out Snape's smirk.

Again.

He was toturing Snape, trying to make the man pay for what he had done. But somewhere, somewhere deep in him, Harry felt he was wasting time. _Voldemort, that's what you came for_, he told himself.

He lowered his wand and then readied a shield charm, expecting Snape to start firing hexes as soon as he could move again.

He was coughing and twisting on the ground.

"Always... just like your father." He spluttered blood on the front of his robes.

Harry's resolve cracked. He knew he shouldn't let down his guard. But he wasn't going to kill this man. His father would not have killed Snape. Dumbledore would never...

It wasn't even necessity to do anything. A full body bind and Snape would be out of his way. But he did not act.

"Why?" Harry's voice broke slightly on the word as he questioned Snape's choice. Watery pain rose at the corners of his eyes.

"What can Voldemort offer you?" He saw Snape shudder.

"The Dark Lord offers many things..."

Snape tried to lift himself pathetically. But he was not even trying to attack Harry anymore.

"What? The same things he offers every other Death Eater? I thought you wanted to be different Snape, be special... show your worth."

Snape did not reply.

"Isn't that it!" Harry shouted.

Again, Snape's only answer was silence.

His cold, black eyes pierced Harry's.

"You do not even wish to understand, Potter." This time there was not even venom in his words.

"Do not pretend to."

Harry could not even spare disgust for Snape.

He did not know what he felt. But now he knew that no matter how long he tortured Snape, even if he killed him, it would not be enough. It would never be enough to hurt, to break this man.

"No, Snape. No. I don't."

Harry performed his Patronus, the shining silver stag awaiting to run Snape down.

"I shall not harm you any longer. You decide your fate now."

Harry left Snape on the ground, free to take his wand, free to attack Harry, free to try and kill him though the Patronus stood guard. As he left Snape, he could not see the man move to do anything.

Harry strode forward, adrenaline and courage without a future as he walked to where he knew Voldemort was waiting.

"_Avada kedavra_," Harry muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself.


End file.
